Friends and Lovers

by June Francis

  ‘I know that,’ he whispered, touching her cheek with an unsteady hand. ‘You can’t know how much I need your love, Viv. You’re like no other girl I’ve ever met. You understand why I am the way I am and accept it.’

  ‘And you understand me. So don’t you go fancying any other girls.’ She held up her face to be kissed.

  They drew apart at last and he glanced at his watch and exclaimed, ‘Hell! I’d better get you home! Your mam will be wondering what’s happened to you.’

  ‘She’d be having a blue fit if she knew I was with you!’ Viv grimaced.

  ‘You’re not going to tell her anything yet?’

  ‘No. I’ll say I went straight to the pictures with Dot. The way she’s been lately she might explode. I’ll give it a couple of weeks and then see how she is.’

  ‘And we’ll see each other Sunday. I’ll meet you at the Pierhead. Bring a picnic and we’ll cross the river.’

  Viv agreed to do just that.

  It was not until she was in bed after a row with her mother over not telling her that she was going out straight from work that Viv realised she had not told Nick about Stephen. How would he react? He had not been in favour of her getting in touch with her uncle.

  Jealousy was an awful thing. She thought of his face when he had spoken of George. For people with so much going for them she and Nick still possessed that awful sense of inadequacy that had dogged them both since childhood. How to get rid of it? It was a pity that George and Nick did not like each other. She wished they could because she loved them both. If wishes could come true, she would wish … would wish … A yawn escaped her.

  I would wish that Nick and my mother would like each other. And Stephen and Nick. She was visiting her uncle’s house on Saturday to tell him about the letters. She yawned again. She wished he would still like her, even though there were no letters, and would accept her as his niece. She wished that everything would turn out right. She fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Viv stood outside the black-painted wrought iron gate of Stephen’s house. She remembered her last visit as a little girl and how she had asked could the larger bedroom overlooking the back garden be hers? Stephen had said, ‘No, it’s for the boy.’ Despite the boy being George and them clashing, no doubt because her cousin had resented Stephen trying to monopolise his mother. Jealousy again. Determined each to be top dog with Aunt Flora.

  Unexpectedly Viv found herself remembering how as a boy George had chivvied her and his sister Rosie into dressing up in a couple of their mothers’ old frocks, it being the only way they could have long dresses. They kept falling over the hems when they led the May procession of children from the street in their various versions of fancy dress. George had bullied them all the way to Lime Street, rattling an empty bean can to collect money. He had not bothered dressing up, of course! But it had been worth getting bossed around after all. They raised ten shillings and tuppence which had bought them ice creams and bottles of Full Swing lemonade. She smiled at the memory, opened the gate and walked up the path.

  Stephen gazed at Viv across the oval table with its lace cloth and stainless steel cutlery. ‘So there’s no proof of your being Jimmy’s daughter?’

  ‘No.’ Viv sipped her glass of sherry. ‘I’m sorry. It seems Mam must have destroyed the letters after you called. When she gets into a temper she goes a bit wild.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that!’ Stephen cleared his throat.

  ‘Does it make that much difference, Uncle Steve?’ she said seriously. ‘I so wanted to bring you some proof but Mam did say that Jimmy wasn’t pleased at first about the baby because of your uncle.’

  ‘Now that sounds real,’ he said in a satisfied voice. ‘My uncle would have gone bananas. Jimmy was his favourite. He wanted him to take over the business.’ He smiled at her. ‘I suppose gut feelings are more important than proof and I wouldn’t have recognised Jimmy’s handwriting if you’d brought the letters, anyway. My mother and sister used to write to me until they were killed but Jimmy and I seldom exchanged news. We did it through them.’

  ‘I’m glad you feel like that. You don’t know how I’ve missed having a male member of the family around,’ said Viv, touching his hand, and gazing up at him. ‘Have you any photographs of your family?’ She thought saying ‘family’ was more tactful than saying Jimmy because of Stephen’s feelings about his brother.

  ‘I thought you might ask that.’ He rose and took an album from a sideboard cupboard.

  Viv grasped the book with impatient fingers and opened it. There were photographs of a woman who bore a strong resemblance to Stephen and then others of two girls who did not look a bit like each other. She turned a page and unexpectedly found her mother’s youthful face staring up at her. It was almost like seeing herself and was quite a shock. Hurriedly she turned her attention to the three young men who were also in the snapshot. Two of them had a definite look of each other and she guessed that they were Stephen and Jimmy. Her father was certainly good-looking and there was a cockiness about the way he held his head. Plenty of confidence, by the look of it. ‘How old was he when this was taken?’ she asked.

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘You have a look of each other.’

  ‘You think so?’ Stephen scrutinised the photograph, lifting the album close to his face. ‘Family likenesses are often in the expression, not in the colour of hair or eyes. Hard to believe now that was me.’ He pointed a finger at the third young man. ‘That’s your Uncle Tom who broke my nose. He hit me with a cricket bat because I was scoring more runs than him.’

  ‘Could that be why you took against George?’ The words were out before she could recall them.

  ‘You noticed that, as young as you were?’ He placed the album on the table and stared at her from thoughtful eyes. She wondered whether he was thinking about her Aunt Flora. ‘I suppose that was part of the reason,’ he said slowly. ‘Where is George now?’

  She told him.

  ‘Best thing for him,’ he said briskly. ‘It’ll make a man of him, fending for himself. Fancied his chances – just like his father, always liked the girls competing for his favours.’

  Viv considered it wisest to keep quiet. Why did men always have to see each other as competitors in a game? She gazed down at the young faces again and tried to imagine what her life would have been like if Jimmy had lived. It was difficult to picture her mother behaving like an ordinary housewife. She had been even moodier than ever this morning and had not been pleased when Viv told her that she was going out that afternoon and would be out on Sunday too with Nick.

  ‘I don’t know why I bothered coming home from America,’ Hilda had said tartly. ‘We never do the things mothers and daughters do.’ So Viv had suggested they went shopping together that morning. It had not been an overwhelming success as her mother had been brutally critical of Viv’s choice in clothes and it had taken her all her time to keep her own opinions on her mother’s taste to herself.

  Stephen began to talk about work and Viv forced herself to concentrate, determined to prove to him that she would make a success of the job. He explained to her about ink and paper suppliers, about customers, and the different types of printing jobs. Her first task, though, would be to chase up the bad debtors. He had been waiting ten months for money from one customer and was just about ready to strangle him.

  He fell silent at last and asked her whether she would like to listen to some music. She said yes but was not prepared for the blast of Beethoven that filled the room. He waved her to a studio couch and sat on a fireside chair after filling her sherry glass and pouring himself a whisky. Eyes half closed she watched his hands moving slightly in time to the music and thought how different it had been on Wednesday with Nick and on Thursday with Dot and Norm. Would this be how it would have been if Stephen had been her father? She supposed that in fact she would have had less to do with him. Dot said she seldom did anything with her father. Viv drank her sherry and dozed off, dreaming th
at she was by a stream, lying in the grass with Nick. As the music came to an end she stirred.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not been very exciting for you,’ said Stephen apologetically.

  ‘I enjoyed it,’ she said instantly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. ‘It’s just that I was tired.’ She yawned delicately. ‘I don’t know much about classical music, I’m ashamed to say.’

  ‘I suppose rock’n’roll is more your kind of thing,’ he said gruffly. ‘Perhaps you like comedy or a good play? We could go to the theatre sometimes. Do you like animals? I’ve never been to Chester Zoo and it’s said to be a good one. I know so little about your tastes.’

  ‘I’ve never been to the zoo either,’ said Viv, getting to her feet. ‘My father and mother weren’t around to take me. But I’d enjoy going with you,’ she said with a twinkle.

  ‘We’ll go next Sunday then,’ he said, looking pleased and fetching her jacket for her. ‘But I’ll see you before then. I’ll see you at work.’

  ‘Yes.’ She slipped her arms into the sleeves, glad that he had not suggested this Sunday. She turned and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you for letting me see the photographs, and for the tea and the music and everything.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Viv. Perhaps you’d like one of the photographs?’

  ‘I’d love one,’ she said sincerely.

  He gave her the one with her mother, Jimmy, himself and her Uncle Tom. She slid it into her handbag. Then he patted her shoulder and saw her out.

  As Viv walked home, she knew that already her relationship with Stephen had moved further on and that he was eager to make her part of his life. It was something she wanted very much, too. In her mind he was already taking on the role of the father she had never had. She would tell Nick about him giving her a job tomorrow but maybe it might be sensible if she did not tell him yet about visiting Stephen’s house? Men could get such funny ideas about things and she did not want anything to come between her and Nick right now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  West Kirby had once been a small fishing village situated at the mouth of the beautiful Dee Estuary but now it was a large residential town which Nick and Viv had reached by ferry and bus.

  ‘What d’you think of walking to one of the Hilbre Islands?’ asked Nick, his eyes narrowing against the sun as he looked towards the crowded beach.

  Vivien stared across the expanse of sand that the outgoing tide had left exposed. Somewhere far out on that expanse were three tiny islands that one could visit when the tide was out. On the far side of the estuary were the green hills of Wales.

  ‘There and back before the tide comes in?’ she murmured. ‘We could get stranded. Do you fancy sitting on a lump of sandstone and grass with just a couple of thousand birds for company until the tide goes out again?’

  ‘We could do more than sit,’ he said, straight-faced.

  ‘We don’t have to walk far to do that.’ She shook her head at him, a smile curving her lips. ‘And I hate walking on sand.’

  ‘Pity,’ he said mournfully. ‘Shall we go up on the moors then and walk to Mariner’s Beacon?’

  ‘If you like? Are you sure you don’t want to look over the church?’ she teased. ‘I believe it’s Norman.’

  ‘No buildings,’ he stressed, putting his arm round her. ‘I just want to be alone with you. Let’s to the hills!’

  Only the lightest flurry of a breeze stirred the leaves of bushes and trees and soon they were hot from climbing. As they got higher the hillside, which was thick with gorse and heather, gave off a somnolent sound caused by the humming of bees and insects. It seemed devoid of human life, a different world to the busy town which lay far below them. It was good to get away from people thought Viv. Away from her mother and everybody else and to be alone with Nick.

  They came to the Beacon which was a tall stone column surmounted by a large ball. A windmill had originally occupied the site and had been a valuable landmark for sailors. Nick walked round it clockwise, while Viv went the other way. When they came face to face she clung to him. ‘I didn’t realise it would be so high!’

  ‘You’re not really scared?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not really scared,’ she repeated, but wrapped both her arms round him.

  He sang against her mouth, ‘If you were the only girl in the world …’

  ‘What would you do?’

  ‘I’d make love to you right here.’

  ‘But we’re not married, she said. ‘We can’t be doing that.’

  ‘Were Adam and Eve married?’ Nick drew back a little and said seriously, ‘Have you ever thought who instituted marriage?’

  ‘I’ve always believed it was God.’

  ‘Probably something to do with Him but did he make the rules or were they man-made?’

  ‘You need rules,’ said Viv firmly. ‘For people’s protection. Especially for children.’

  ‘I agree, of course. Although I do believe, as you can guess, that some people should never have married. We’d both still be here.’ He hugged her to him. ‘Don’t you think this is the perfect place and the perfect spot. It’s like a little Eden.’

  ‘We’re not Adam and Eve.’

  There was silence and for several seconds, with her cheek against his chest, Viv listened to Nick’s heartbeat. It seemed louder than the birdsong all around them. Alive. Vital. Beating with the same urgency as her own.

  ‘It’s bloody difficult, isn’t it, Viv?’ He laughed harshly. ‘If I could only win that award for my design! Then I’d feel better able to cope with all this.’

  ‘With all what?’ she said softly.

  ‘Lust. I lust after you, Viv.’ The passion in his voice seared her to the soul. ‘I want your body.’

  ‘Just my body? Thanks very much,’ she said lightly. ‘What about the rest of me? Is that all I am to you after all these months? A body worth having? Aren’t I worth waiting for?’

  ‘I don’t know how you can ask me that,’ he said, his eyes glinting. His hold slackened and he drew away from her again. ‘A few days ago I asked you to marry me and told you that I loved you.’

  ‘You’ve just talked of lust.’

  ‘How do you separate love from lust? Your body is part of you and I want to be joined to it. For us to be one, Viv, now.’

  There was a silence and she could feel her heart pounding. She freed herself and said, slightly breathless, ‘I need to think and I can’t do that when you’re holding me.’

  ‘So you feel something? A madness in the blood. It’s summer beginning to burst all around us. Nature’s going crazy.’

  She made no answer but began to walk along the ridge, not caring that she scratched her arm on the yellow flowering gorse. She was as much aware as him of the effect the beauties of nature had on her senses.

  He caught up with her and pulled her close, his hand passing over her hair which was loose about her shoulders and held back by an Alice band. ‘Could you live happily ever after without me, Viv?’

  ‘Don’t ask daft questions. You know I couldn’t.’

  ‘Good.’ His arms went around her and his mouth searched for hers.

  It would have been impossible for her not to respond to his kisses, but the self-restraint she had always enforced on herself in his company was still in force. But how easy it would be just to slacken it and allow herself to surrender to the sensations that his touch aroused! They stretched out in the tall grass and the sun was warm on her skin as he buried his face against her neck. He slid the straps of her sun dress and bra from her shoulders and tickled her throat with his tongue before licking a wide swathe down to her breasts.

  ‘You aren’t going to eat me?’ Viv’s voice was barely audible, affected as she was by the sensations snaking down into the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Fe-fo-fi-fum, I smell the blood of a damsel in distress,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’re not going to get carried away by lust, are you, Nick?’ The sun was painting patterns against her eyelids, orange and purple and blac
k. She felt drunk on the scent of flowers and grass, and really terribly languid. His tongue drew circles on her stomach. She thought of butterflies fluttering above flowers, was aware of the hypnotic buzz of bees as they dived into buttercups and clover. Dive, dive, dive, she thought, into the heart of me. She felt as if she was expanding. A rose unfurling its dewy petals to the sun.

  He stroked her thigh and she found herself reaching out for him, undoing the buttons of his shirt. As their lips met she rubbed her body against his in a gesture that was as old as time. He undid some buttons of his own and immediately she stiffened. She gazed up into his eyes, feeling her heart thudding against her ribs, and knew that she should protest. But all she could think of were the words: ‘The lady dost protest too much, methinks.’ So she just kept looking at him.

  The next moment he had turned them both over so that she was uppermost. They both laughed.

  ‘You’re crazy, Nick. What do you think I’m going to do from up here?’

  The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Take me! I’m yours.’

  ‘Very funny. I’m not going to do that!’

  ‘Aren’t you curious about what it’s like?’

  ‘Of course I am but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Someone could come up here.’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘If that’s all you’re worried about, I don’t know what’s stopping you. Nobody would see us, their eyes would be on the view.’ He caressed her bare shoulder. ‘Besides, this grass is good cover.’

  ‘You’ve got all the answers, haven’t you?’

  Nick leant up and kissed her breast. ‘I love you,’ he said.

  Viv stilled, feeling unexpected tears in her throat. ‘You’re just saying that to get round me,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not daft, you know.’

  ‘Throw my love in my face then! But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.’

  ‘Nick,’ she said, touched again, ‘don’t say that. I’d never do that.’